ou're so beastly insistent, Olive. What's the use? If you must know,
I've given the dear children a cut, this morning. One of them came
prowling into class, all broken out with mumps; that is, if you can
call it broken out, when there is only one of it and as large as a
camel's hump. Anyhow, I freely offered them a cut, and advised them
all to go to their homes and to disinfect themselves with due
discretion."

"And you?" Olive inquired.

"Me? I'm immune. I haven't cheek enough to begin to swell up like that.
Accordingly, I am merely taking a walk, while I cultivate my muse."

"And I'm to be the muse's understudy?" Olive laughed. "Thank you, I'm
otherwise engaged."

"You looked it, when I met you. What's doing?"

"Household economics. I'm going the rounds of the basement bargain
counters, hunting dish towelling."

"What's the use?"

"To dry the dishes," Olive told him literally. "One doesn't want to eat
things in a puddle."

Dolph stuck his hands into the pockets of his coat. Then he turned to
face her rebukefully.

"What a concrete mind you do have, Olive! I wish you'd come into my
classes; I'd teach you how to generalize, and give you some much-needed
lessons in beauty of diction. You mean well; but you certainly do talk
like a housemaid, and--Good morning, Mr. Brenton. Jolly sort of
morning, too!" Then Dolph digressed. "What in thunder is the matter
with that fellow, Olive?"

"Matter?" Olive tried her best to look surprised at the question.

"No use shamming. You are perfectly aware that something has gone wrong
with the dominie, and he's on his nerves," Dolph told her coolly.
"Besides, why should you be denying it? One only tells fibs about one's
own responsibilities, and you aren't responsible for Brenton, as far as
I know."

"Heaven forbid!" Olive replied, with hasty piety. "I have all the
responsibility I can endure, with you and Reed."

"Best cut out Opdyke, then, and focus it all on me," Dolph advised her
genially. "I need it, and I shall repay your effort, seven-fold." Then
he digressed again, this time without a trace of humour. "Olive, for a
fact, how is Opdyke?" he inquired.

"Haven't you seen him lately?"

"Yes, of course." Dolph spoke with some impatience. "That's the reason
I am asking. I go in there, as often as I can spend the time and stand
the strain."

Olive edged a trifle nearer to the fur-lined elbow.

"You feel it, too, Dolph?"

"Good Lord, yes! How could anybody help it,